


Small Gifts

by spikewriter



Series: Rose Tyler, Defender of the Earth and Her Faithful Companion, the Doctor (Oi!) [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-28 19:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/311439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikewriter/pseuds/spikewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gifts sometimes come in unexpected forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day Two of my 2009 Advent Calendar.

As lovely as it was being able to avail oneself of the services of a truly fine tailor, the Doctor couldn't help missing the TARDIS' vast wardrobe at moments like this. He felt trapped on the small pedestal while Horace -- who apparently made all of Pete's best suits -- checked the fit of the new dinner jacket being made for him, an early Christmas gift from Jackie. For one thing, if he twitched, he might possibly cause a mistake in the careful and minute adjustments being made. For another, he might get stuck with a pin and he certainly didn't fancy that.

"You're not helping," he told Rose, risking a sideways glance toward the chair she was elegantly arranged on.

"I'm not?" she asked, her voice innocent. She then proceeded to cross one leg over the other, which shifted the skirt she was wearing ever so slightly upwards. She knew exactly what she was doing, her eyes following his every move.

"Perhaps a _slight_ adjustment to the trousers," Horace said softly, his voice low enough that it didn't carry beyond the two of them. "I suggest the gentleman might be more comfortable if I did so."

This hadn't been as much of a problem when he had two hearts -- not that the Doctor was complaining about his current life with one. It'd been a year and a half since he'd found himself making a new life in this world with Rose and he was discovering that one world might offer enough distraction to keep him happy for his remaining years. But there were definitely things he'd found easier to control when he'd enjoyed two hearts and a respiratory bypass system.

Rose had been sympathetic to his whingings -- and delightfully evil in finding ways to test just how far that control went in certain circumstances. "I like watching you lose control," she said one night when they'd somehow ended up on the floor of their flat, clothes everywhere. "When we traveled together, you never seemed to let that slip and I always wondered what you'd be like if you just let go." She'd grinned, the tip of her tongue pressing against her top front teeth as she played with the hair on his chest. "I need to make sure you do this more often."

The Doctor hadn't expected her to embrace the idea so wholeheartedly, but he figured there were distinct advantages. "Do you think your mother will approve?" he asked, deciding he'd pretend he hadn't notice the deliberate but subtle revelation of skin. "Still don't know why I actually need a new one; the vintage one I found last year suits me just fine."

"Because we don't want you ending up without one when you need it. Remember what happened with the Savorthan Trust dinner?"

"I have other suits. Just because I forgot to take the DJ to the cleaners --"

"The blue suit's not suitable for a formal function and you know it. That's why we came up with that story about you having a cold and remember what happened because of that?"

"Rose Tyler, you laughed yourself silly over the tabloid headlines. Just because I'm not at one event, they all scream there's trouble in paradise -- and what makes them think I'm a 'boy toy', anyway?"

"That's not it. I almost took out Sebastian that night. He still hasn't gotten the hint I'm not interested. It's in my best interests that you have a second tux so you can be at my side to protect me."

He snorted, which earned him a stern look from Horace. "You don't need protection. Besides, hasn't he taken up with Christina de What's-Her-Name?"

"Mum wants you to have one and she's paying for it. You're arguing?"

That stopped him and the rest of the fitting passed in silence -- though he did notice Rose paying special attention when Horace made adjustments to the back waistband of his pants. "Maybe we should get you a new suit made," she said as the tailor finished up. "I mean, I like what you've been buying, but something that just fits you perfectly. What would you suggest, Horace?"

Horace smiled and called for one of the assistants to bring a bolt over. "We just received some new fabrics and I think this one would work particularly well."

The moment he saw the bolt of fine woven wool, the Doctor felt his throat tighten. Just that particular shade of brown with a blue pinstripe running through it. He liked the blue, but the brown suit had been his favorite, comfortable, well-fitting and he knew Rose like the way he looked --

He turned to discover Rose's face had frozen as she stared at the fabric in the assistant's hands. Of course. It was "his" fabric. "Maybe something else," he told Horace, even though he knew nothing else would be as pleasing. "Maybe not pinstripes."

"Wait." Rose rose from her chair, eyes still fixed on the fabric. "Let's not be so hasty. I think it'd look good on you."

Obligingly, the assistant unrolled a bit from the bolt, holding it up to the Doctor's chest to give hint as to how it would look on him. Rose slid in next to him, the two of them staring at the image in the mirror. The more he looked at it, the more he knew it wasn't an exact match, but he wanted it -- and if Rose didn't want him to have it, if the very idea raised ghosts that were better left alone, then he'd find a way to get along without it.

"I think you should get it," she said at last, still watching their image. "I mean, it's not -- it's wool for one thing. But you look good in it and it doesn't matter that it's not the same; it's you."

She turned her head to look up at him, still shorter even with the heels she wore. "And I like that."

As he pulled her to him, rumpling what was apparently very expensive fabric and provoking a less than dignified yelp from Horace's assistant, the Doctor couldn't help thinking it was the details that counted.


End file.
